Practice
by hardly loquacious
Summary: Jane knows there are things he is not going to be good at when it comes to being in a relationship. But he wants to be in a relationship (he wants to make her happy), so he comes up with a solution. Spoilers for 7.01. Fluff.


A/N: So, I decided to write fluff. Fluff inspired by the premiere (and actually, Jane Austen quote). I had a bit of an idea that wouldn't go away, so I wrote it down. And this time it's actually appropriate vignette length! Enjoy.

Practice

xxx

It struck him, as he watched her delight at the view of the streets of Austin from a perfectly restored classic car, that he could spend the rest of his life making her smile.

Jane had seen Lisbon smile before, of course, but not like this. Not like she was just _happy_. Not like she was just happy to be sitting in a car with _him._

And not like he was the only one who could put the smile on her face.

Because that was the other key thing about this particular smile.

That he, Patrick Jane, had been the one to put it there.

He'd made her smile before, true.

But never so purely.

There had always been something in the way before. A case. A serial killer. A secret.

Jane frowned a little.

He didn't want secrets between them. Not big secrets anyway.

He wanted the look on her face from earlier, the look on her face _now_. Eyes wide and expression open and _smiling_.

Not a glance plus eye roll that told him she didn't quite trust him.

Not a glare and accompanying confrontational posture because she was sure he was keeping something from her.

And not an expression that was sad and uncertain and so unsure of their new boundaries over something as straightforward as information pertinent to a case they were working.

Just this, just this new reality (and this_ was_ his, no _their,_ reality now - this was _real_).

Because if he could make Teresa Lisbon smile like that, make her that happy, then maybe he'd stop worrying that he didn't have a plan, that he didn't have a clue how to function in a real relationship anymore, that he really have much of anything at all to offer her, except how he felt about her, how much he loved her.

But if he could just keep giving her this joy, this feeling of rightness...

This openness between them, this lack of secrets.

The problem was, Jane wasn't sure he even knew how to function without secrets. He'd spent too long keeping so many. So much of his life had been walls and masks and only ever telling just the right person just the right thing, and usually never telling anyone anything just to be safe. Never telling _her_ anything unless he was sure (or desperate). He didn't even know how to tell people things anymore.

Jane clenched his fingers around the steering wheel of what really was an extremely cool car.

He glanced back at the woman next to him, the one now examining dashboard and the material of the seats, and even the mechanism for opening the door in fascination, like she still couldn't quite believe she was sitting in her grandfather's favourite car.

Her expression caused Jane to relax. After all, she'd shared that little slice of her past with him only two days earlier. Surely he could reciprocate.

He decided he'd just have to re-learn how to talk to someone.

He'd... he'd have to _practice._

The notion pleased him.

He'd start small.

And if he got stuck, he'd just remember the smile.

Jane grinned. As for getting started, there was no time like the present.

"You know Lisbon," he said, drawing her attention away from the gear shift. "I used to think the Citroen was the only car for me, but I may be coming around."

"Really?" she replied, laughter in her voice.

He stole a glance at her as he shifted gears at a stop sign, memorizing the smile in her eyes. "Mmhm."

"Planning to move from one impractical vehicle to another?" she wondered.

Jane felt a smile of his own in the corners of his cheeks. "The airstream's practical. Home and transport all in one."

He could practically feel her skepticism.

"Did I ever tell you how I got it?"he asked.

"The airstream?" Lisbon wondered. "Sure. You blackmailed the FBI."

Jane shook his head with a chuckle. "No, the Citroen," he clarified, glancing at her again.

She looked surprised, but curious... interested.

"No," she said after a minute. "I don't think you ever did. Just kept insisting that it was the best car in the world every time I had to go pick you up in the middle of nowhere because the damn thing wouldn't start."

Jane decided to ignore the slight to his faithful (and dearly missed) former car.

He shifted again to try and get a little speed.

"Well, it shouldn't surprise you to learn that it all started with a poker game..."

He decided accompanying laughter made Lisbon's smile even better.

xxx

Never let it be said that Patrick Jane couldn't be methodical about achieving a goal when he wanted to be.

He even set himself a target: choose to tell Lisbon at least one thing that you don't have to, _every day._

Jane figured if he did it enough, if he got used to it, it would become habit.

He started slow, with little things, things that weren't important, were maybe even a little silly, but were _true._

"You know Lisbon, I think French vanilla ice cream is my favourite. You just don't mess with a classic."

"People are always raving about sunrises, Teresa, but I prefer sunsets. There's something about watching the dark steal across the sky. They're more subtle, deeper. Want to watch one together? Tonight?"

"Have you ever read _Catcher in the Rye_, Lisbon? You must have, probably in high school. I didn't read it for class, but I did read it. And I thought Holden Caulfield was the biggest phony of them all. I told myself that if I met him (or someone like him), I'd treat him to a real con."

"I'm trying to decide what to get Wiley for his birthday. What do you think he'd like better, a book of simple card tricks, with lessons on how to do them from yours truly, or free lunches from the falafel place down the street for a week?"

"Did you see the new breakfast place on the corner? I can't decide whether it looks homey and delicious, or unkempt and unsanitary. How do you feel about further investigation?"

"Sometimes I amuse myself with imaging setting Cho up on a date, but so that he didn't know it was a set-up. Partly for my own amusement, partly because I think it would be good for him. If I decided to try it, would you help me, or would you feel honour-bound to tell him of the plot?"

As the weeks wore on, Jane found that telling Lisbon things became more than just habit, it became... it became a thing he looked forward to. He _liked_ telling her things. He liked catching her attention, shifting just a little farther into her personal space, and talking to her. He liked the way she always (or almost always – sometimes his topics were a little too glib) gave him her full attention, he liked that she was interested, that the things he was telling her mattered to her.

He liked that each time he shared something, she smiled in a different way.

And Jane found that soon he was meeting, if not surpassing, his once a day target without even trying.

Because he just liked talking to her. He liked hearing her thoughts on things. He liked that she tended to smile slightly with each new piece of information. He liked that each time she accepted whatever he chose to tell her without judgement (or occasionally with minimal judgement), that he felt himself relaxing just a little bit more.

He liked that his first consideration wasn't whether or not she needed to know.

He liked that their relationship felt a little more real.

And as it became easier to tell her things, the things he told her changed too.

"I used to only wear vests and three-piece suits because I was afraid that if I changed them, I'd widen my focus when I needed to keep it narrow. Then when I was in South America, I decided to try patterns. But now I find I miss the vests. Not because I want to go back to the way it was before, but because they 're comfortable."

"I talked to Sam yesterday. I call from time to time, keep in touch. I told her we were dating. The only response was a long pause on the other end of the line. So long I almost thought she'd hung up, until she finally said, "Well, it's about damn time!" Which reminds me, how often do you talk to Van Pelt and Rigsby?"

"I'm not going to lie, dear, I'm a little nervous about meeting your brothers. There are three of them, and no matter what their differences have been in the past, I'm pretty sure they'd unite to protect you. But even if part of me isn't looking forward to a situation I'm sure will involve numerous threats to my person, the rest of me can't help being happy that I have someone I care enough about to want to impress their family.

"I'm not going to disappear on you again, Lisbon. I promise. I'm not going to leave you. I know it's something you worry about sometimes still. Don't try and deny it. I certainly don't blame you. I'd worry about me too. After this past case, I think I need a couple of hours by myself. I'm okay – I just need some time. And I'm telling you because I think I might go for a drive. And I might not answer my phone. In fact, I might even turn it off. But I'll be back before you're in bed tonight. After a few hours alone with my head, I think I'll probably want some company, if you're up for it."

"Sometimes I'm terrified when you go out into the field. I'm terrified that something will happen to you. And it doesn't matter how good you are, or how good the plan is, or anything. Because I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. Sometimes you terrify me."

"I love you. And I still really like saying it."

xxx

Jane let himself into her house with the key he rarely used, but he couldn't bring himself to wait for her to answer the door. He ordered himself not to run from room to room searching for her, though he had an urge to find her as quickly as possible. He decided on the direct approach. "Lisbon?"

"Laundry," she called back.

He made his way down the hall to the laundry room, wincing slightly when she didn't turn to great him when he got there. It didn't seem like a good sign.

"I forgot to tell you Danny Ruskin's in town," he said quickly.

She paused in her folding. "Did you?"

Jane cringed. He'd figured she'd have heard by now. Heard from someone who wasn't him. And she'd have jumped to her own conclusions. "Yes," he assured her. "I meant to tell you earlier, no long after he called me, actually. I was going to tell you at the coffee place, but then Abbott interrupted our conversation, and I didn't want to say anything in front of him. Then I got distracted, and you got pulled into that board meeting when we were back at work, and..." he shrugged. "There wasn't time."

"What'd he want?" Lisbon asked after a moment.

"To get a drink with his brother-in-law," Jane answered truthfully. "Apparently Danny's just sentimental enough to want to check in every five years or so. We met for a drink. Swapped stories. Apparently he's been seeing a grifter from Vegas on and off for two years."

Lisbon finally turned to face him. Jane was unsurprised by the completely neutral expression on her face, not even a hint of a smile now. "You know the police're looking for him? Asked the FBI if we could keep an eye out."

Jane shrugged. "Police're always looking for Danny. I didn't ask for any details, and he didn't mention anything. Something that surprised me, actually. I originally figured he'd called me to help him out of some trouble."

"Which he didn't?" Lisbon double-checked.

Jane shook his head, taking a step towards her. "Just asked how I was doing. Asked about South America, asked about the new job, asked about you, actually. Oh, and told me about his lady-friend, bragged about his latest con. The usual."

Jane could see the struggle to believe him on her face. She took a deep breath. "And you're sure the reason you didn't tell me isn't that you wanted to protect me? That it wasn't an attempt to give me plausible deniability in case Abbott asked me about it?"

Jane winced, because Lisbon had come to the exact conclusion he'd been afraid of. "No," he told her. "I was going to tell you. I wanted to tell you. I just got interrupted. I was going to tell you when I got home, and then Abbott asked me if I knew Danny was in town, and I figured I'd run out of time to tell you, because you'd probably already heard."

"About an hour ago," Lisbon confirmed. "Abbott asked me if either one of us had seen Danny. Of course, I couldn't really answer for you..."

"I was going to tell you," Jane promised, taking another step towards her.

"Okay."

But Jane wasn't sure she believed him. "I know I haven't always been exactly open, or honest with you, Teresa, but I am trying. I promise, I am trying. I was going to tell you. I like telling you things. I like talking to you. Telling you stories of things I saw at the farmer's market, telling you stories about the old carnival days, telling you about all the things I wish you could have seen in South America..." He swallowed. "Telling you if I'm worried, or upset, or if something's bothering me... I _tell_ you things now. I _tell _you things, Teresa."

Lisbon was staring at him, stupefied. This time it was her turn to take a step towards him. "Jane, have you been..."

He tried to explain, never taking his eyes off her. For all that he was getting better at talking to her, some things were still hard. "Sometimes I worry that I won't be good enough at this, that you'll never quite trust me, that you'll regret..."

With that, understanding seemed to click for her.

Before he could finish speaking, she was across the room, her body pressed against his, and her lips pressed against his as well.

Jane wrapped one arm around her waist as his other hand stroked her cheek.

When she pulled away, he was relieved to see her softest of smiles shining up at him. "You were really going to tell me," she murmured happily.

"I don't want secrets to get in the way," Jane replied.

Lisbon watched him for a moment, before running a hand through his hair. "Me neither." She buried her face in his neck with a happy sigh. "I can't believe you've actually been... I mean..." She wrapped an arm around his waist and squeezed.

Jane squeezed back. "You don't know what you mean to me."

Lisbon tilted her head up with a little frown. "You don't know what _you_ mean to _me_. Not if you're saying things like that."

He swallowed. "I... Teresa..."

She put her hands on his cheeks and stretched up on her toes so she was practically looking him in the eye. "Listen to me Patrick, even when I'm spitting mad at you, or frustrated, or ready to wring your neck, or not sure what in the _hell_ is going through your brain... Even with neither of us knowing quite what we're doing, and without a plan. Even then, this feels so incredibly right. This just feels right. Always."

Suddenly she sent him a beaming smile. "Even if ironically, you didn't talk to me about the fact that you were going to try to talk to me more."

Her shining eyes quieted the fluttering of panic Jane had been feeling since getting Abbott's message asking for information on the whereabouts of one Danny Ruskin. The clarity of her smile cut through the crap to what was really important.

For all the snags along the way, this just _felt right_.

Just like her lips sliding back against his.

xxx

The end


End file.
